


The French Teacher

by TheDreadPirate, velificatio



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Canonical Character Death, Crack, Inspired by Art, It's set in a school but we barely even talk about the school lol, M/M, Mal - Freeform, Military Background, Military Training, Out of Character, Trans Male Character, both of them are!, did i mention they bang?, foul language cuz i'm a dirty bird, i think, some violence at the end, somnacin is a street drug, trans body positivity through the art of getting it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDreadPirate/pseuds/TheDreadPirate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velificatio/pseuds/velificatio
Summary: Veteran Marine Arthur infiltrates an unassuming high school to find the source of some knockoff Somnacin.





	1. Blind What?

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this story started as a small prompt i had rolling in my head and then when i saw http://velificantes.tumblr.com/ art prompt for the Inception Reverse Bang it all came together!
> 
> Link for the artwork! http://velificantes.tumblr.com/post/170378171030/my-first-entry-for-inception-reverse-bang-to-be
> 
> Movies that inspired me too: 'The Substitute' starring Tom Berenger aka Browning (one of my fave merc infiltrates a school movies) and 21 Jump Street the movie. I tried to be funny but mostly there's just a lot of cussing and tasteful dick humor (or just tasty).
> 
> This is my first time writing transgender characters but I've had some ideas for awhile now. I consider myself genderfluid so my journey is different than the ftm (female to male) characters I've depicted here but I've endeavored to write them with much respect none the less. 
> 
> I didn't go extensively into any transitioning in this story as these men have already traveled that road by the time we find them. Instead of the usual growing pains of transitioning I've opted to just drop two regular ol' dudes with regular ol' needs into a weird story i thought up one day.
> 
> That all being said I have done a fair amount of research of my own about transitioning and what it does to the body for my own personal needs. If anything I've written (ie; the sex scene) rubs you the wrong way alls i can say is, 'different strokes for different folks' and a merry good-day to you!
> 
> ALSO! I did something weird while uploading so if there is any text that seems cut off please let me know. IDk wha the hell I'm doing.

Page 9 of 27                                                      Cobb AWOL Hearing

 

**Military Authorized Audio Recording with transcripts                       December 12th**

**Call made from Mallory Cobb (MC) of Santa Mira at 2:47 am pst. to Dominick Martin Cobb (DMC) stationed in REDACTED.**

> "Mal?" ::audible yawn from DMC:: "I'm so glad you called. I've been trying to reach you at home. After tomorrow I won't be near a phone for a couple months and-"
> 
> "I understand now Dom. I understand what I'm meant to do, who I'm meant to be." ::quickened breathing from MC::
> 
> "…Mal," ::audible sigh from DMC::
> 
> "Please tell me where you are. If there's something you need me to understand I will _doudou*_ …" ::both pause::
> 
>       *doudou: French term of endearment.
> 
> "God Mal, where the hell are you?" ::elevated speech from DMC followed by panting and background rustling noise::
> 
> "I've never felt better my love. I know what I must do. It's time to wake up." ::unidentifiable background noises from MC::
> 
> "Mal… you promised… you wouldn't get involved until I got back home." ::heavy sigh from DMC::
> 
> "I don't need your help anymore darling. I've helped myself."  
> 
> "What does that mean? Mal? What in the hell does that mean?" ::both pause::
> 
> "Look, I'm getting dressed now and I'll take the next redeye out of here so just go lie down and try to sleep off whatever's going on 'til I get there, ok?" ::rustling continues::
> 
> "I'm already sleeping, darling. So are you..."
> 
> "Damn it Mal!" ::very elevated speech from DMC:: "I'm awake and I'm… I'm just… I'm so scared." ::whispered speech from DMC:: baby please, just a little longer. I'm calling someone to trace you if you can't tell me where-"
> 
> "I'm going to wake up now Dominick. I want you to wake up with me… wake the children too of course." ::calm speech from MC who then falls silent for the rest of the call::
> 
> "No! You don't know what you're saying Mal, just wait for me! Give me a few hours and I'll be there and… and we can do this together ok? Mal?..." ::rustling continues from DMC::
> 
> "Mal? Mal!" ::frantic elevated speech from DMC:: "Baby please answer me oh god, please! Please help me, god!" ::DMC's speech becomes unintelligible cries, moaning, and pleas for another five minutes. DMC then disconnects the line to call the local Santa Mira authorities to perform a wellness check. According to attached military records (pages 13 to21), DMC made calls to several commanding officers to ask for immediate leave. Upon being denied, DMC left base without clearance and arrived in Santa Mira 22 hours later…::

Arthur stops the recording and tosses the corresponding file onto the organized chaos of his motel bed. His eyes and soul are both aching after hearing the desperate hopelessness coming out of his best friend, from the strongest man he knows.

He avoids the grisly photos for a time, instead, he picks up the toxicology report from the coroner's office. Her blood work tests positive for cocaine and PCP, but Arthur knows better. Knockoff Somnacin, or any of its street names 'Vitamin S', 'Nancy', 'S'mores', 'Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn', won't show up on a typical drug screen. Arthur doesn't need scientific evidence to know that Mal had been tripping dangerously and exponentially on that life-ruining drug.

It was meant to be a cheap alternative to the Somnacin compound created to enter the minds of coma patients or those with severe brain-damage in order to attempt to "bring them back" so to speak.

It never worked the way the original creators had intended.

Now it's damn near everywhere. It's even still being experimented on in multiple fields of medicine and science, ordered by the government and private firms both. It can go through a lot of cutting, or diluting, for it to hit the street; the original drug is just too expensive, too precious. So it gets mixed with whatever junk the dealer has on hand.

The newest batch unleased on the populace goes by the moniker Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn. Somnacin is mixed with an anesthetic that is strong yet flexible, placing the user, or 'dreamer' as they are often called, into something of a dream-like state though they appear to be wide awake.

Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn might not kill you outright like an overdose of Vitamin S will with its extra shot of heroin. The Unᴉcorn will let you wake back up sure but it'll keep wanting more until you no longer believe in the real world. Why would you when your wildest dreams feel more real than ever before?

Arthur didn't have to guess which drug Mal likely had taken with the delusion so clearly in her voice. The question he had to answer was where did she get it so he can close that pipeline and just maybe save what's left of Dom's sanity.

His friend's shaken voice still rings in the quiet of the motel room, _Mal, you promised_.

_What was it?_ Arthur wonders. _What did you promise, Mal and why did you have to die when you broke it?_

Arthur had only been made aware of Mal's death after receiving a phone call from the JAG lawyer assigned to Dom. He tried to see his fellow Marine but Dom was still very much trapped in his grief. Arthur could understand but he needed to get Dom back behind the wheel as the lawyer warned the prosecution was going to try him for desertion rather than just going AWOL. He could go away for 3 years. Meaning Phillipa and James would not only lose their mother but their father for a time as well.

That's why Arthur is staying in a dingy motel room a few hour's drive out from Santa Mira, California. The home of the Cobb's; the only family Arthur has ever really known.

He's already inserted himself into the local school system as a replacement for the very same AP French class that Mal taught at Fischer High. From the somber tone of the school administrator he spoke to over the phone, the faculty is all devastated by the loss of one of their own. Arthur felt almost dirty weaseling his way into Mal's place. Even worse for pretending to know nothing of her. But it will all pay off soon once Arthur finds the bastards cooking Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn.


	2. Hot For Teacher

The mood is somber at Fischer High on the first day of school. How could I not be after losing one of its most beloved teachers mere weeks ago? The small town had gathered together to comfort one another with a candlelight vigil to honor Mal Cobb as well as shine light on the terrible effects of street Somnacin.

The local cops were in attendance that night to the anger of many. People wanted to know what was being done about a dangerous chemical compound that was engineered by the government and then unleashed on the nation.

In spite of the bitter heartache still wracking the students and faculty, there is some buzz about the new French teacher starting today. Even in the midst of tragedy the small town can't get enough of the usual gossip.

Usually, it's the students who are prone to such idle talk but it's the faculty, on this occasion, that dominates the speculative chatter.

Some of the teachers and staff are wondering about the quality of education such a last minute addition can offer their kids while others are still reeling at the loss of their friend and are concerned about the legacy she leaves behind.

One such faculty member is Ariadne "Not Miss nor Ms just Ariadne" Alexakis, the second-year math teacher. She bribed her 3rd-period geometry class with candy if they behaved while she went to spy.

She's wearing out her sensible loafers as she paces in front of Mrs. Cobb's old classroom a few times, trying to catch a glimpse of the new guy but avoid getting caught by Principal Browning. She was about to make another pass when a large presence materialized behind her.

"I hope you have a hall pass, young lady," it whispers

Ariadne swallows the scream that bubbles up her throat as she whips around, eyes wide in fright, only to see Eames with a big dumb grin on his face.

"You jerk!" She hisses. "You trying to get me caught?"

He just shrugs and leans past her to look into the room as well but only sees the backs of students' heads. "What's so important it has you playing hooky from class?"

"Seriously? What are you even doing here; the gym is on the other side of the school." She says narrowing her eyes.

Again with his grin. "Oh, so you're checking out the new talent as well then?"

Ariadne wants to roll her eyes again but instead, she inches closer to the door and decides to just go for it and quickly pushes her head inside. She pulls back out just as quick, cheeks scarlet.

"I think Browning saw me. I’m outta here." She whispers, embarrassed, before floating off back to her class.

Eames quietly laughs at her retreating back. He walked all the way over here for a reason and he's damned if he won't last a bit longer than she did.

Rather than craning his neck around the door jamb as Ariadne had, Eames decides for a more confident approach by just leaning back against the door frame facing the front of the class. He crosses his arms over his chest as Browning speaks about Mal. He knows she'll be on everyone's lips for a long time to come but sincerely he wishes they'd just let her memory rest awhile.

He's just about to leave until he finally gets a good look at their new French Teacher, Mr. Blum.

Eames had been expecting a balding man of middle age with graying hair and specs, maybe a pot belly… In actuality, Blum must be a few years younger than Eames himself and while his hair is close-cropped due to a gently receding hairline he is still undeniably handsome. Especially the way he’s stood there at the head of the class hands in his pockets, oozing his own brand of dapper bravado in a perfectly tailored suit.

His expression is severe and all business which isn’t usually Eames' taste but the dastardly Mr. Blum just keeps defying Eames' presumptions. His stern look serves to only arouse curiosity (among other things) in Eames.  Even after he's finally caught and his cheeks want to turn as rosy as Ariadne's had.

When Mr. Blum notices him and those pretty brown eyes narrow before widening a little Eames hopes it's a bit of the same curiosity/sudden desire. Eames grins then, offers the new guy a wink and then heads back to his wing of the school.

He's always had a decent amount of luck in his life, a bit of gambling here, a brush with death there, but that luck never before touched on what he's been missing in this small town over the years.

He doesn't want to get too ahead of himself but he's already making plans to ask that man out all while trying to wrangle the grin off his face before he heads back into the gym to deal with screaming, hormonal teenagers.


	3. The Way He Looks Should Be Illegal

Arthur arrived at the school a good hour and a half early to make sure he had everything situated. This job might only be a cover but he’d be damned if he didn’t take it as seriously as feasible.

There isn’t much security at Maurice Fischer High. Not much going on in the town to begin with which might explain why the high school is named after the richest guy in town instead of a president or national hero.

Still, the grounds are quaint and well kept. You can barely get the sense of standardized oppression that Arthur’s cynical nature knows lurks at nearly every institution of learning. Mal had always spoken of this place with love and warmth so Arthur decides to try to give her the benefit of the doubt for old time’s sake.

When he steps into her classroom his chest grows tight. In truth, they had never been that close but that was mostly on Arthur’s part. He knew she was a lovely person from the family dinners he was invited to whenever he was in town but Arthur was always on the move with work. He tries not to regret often but he does regret not talking to her more, not being an option for her to call.

He’s unloading his messenger back when he notices what looks to be a shrine in the corner between the dry erase board and the window. There’s a picture of a kid with long hair and a shy smile.

**Jonathon Nash May 7 th, 1999 – March 18th, 2017**

Just two months shy of turning 18 and graduating. Mal died two weeks before the start of the new school year. He continues his perusal. Taking in the maps of not only France but Haiti, Canada, and Cameroon as well. There are cartoon-style drawings of various items and actions with the French terms written below and he's certain that they were done by Mrs. Cobb herself.

Finally, at the back of the class, in the opposite corner of Jonathon's, Mal was given her own remembrance. Arthur's smile turns watery at the picture they chose. She often looked like the Parisian model she could have been had she not fallen in love with teaching but they chose a more candid picture showing her laughing until she was squinting. She would have hated it until someone had to convince her just how beautiful she looks like that.

After that he spends time just sitting at her desk, looking through her drawers and touching the belongings of a dead woman.

Ten minutes before the start of class Mr. Browning enters just as the first-period freshmen class start ambling in.

“Arthur Blum, I presume? I’m Tom Browning thank you so much for coming on such short notice” He asks with a smile and handshake.

Arthur nods, accepting the greeting with a curt shake. “I’m just happy I was available to help. I hope I can offer some stabilization if nothing else during this time.”

“That’s real fine of you Mr. Blum. I hope the students can appreciate that as much as the faculty does. We’ve all had a meeting about this last week and I’m sure some of them will be stopping by to welcome you to Fischer.”

“That sounds great. I’d love to meet everyone.” _One on one preferably._

“Wonderful. If you don’t mind I’d like to make a small introduction to your classes. As you can imagine Mrs. Cobb’s passing has hit us all pretty hard especially with the manner in which she died so I’d like to talk to the kids a bit about her as well as introducing you."

Browning ends up coming back for each of Arthur’s classes that day to say a few words. It should get easier as the day goes on but it doesn’t. The later classes have all had her for multiple years. All these students loved her and were loved by her and now they are left confused, heartbroken and some betrayed as they size Arthur up.

The kids will feel how they want to feel so instead Arthur focuses on the debt he owes his friend and brother from their days in the Marines, back before he was Arthur. He and Dom had formed an instant kinship, both dedicated soldiers with similar tastes in music and junk food when the battlefield allowed them any small respite.

He was the first person Arthur came out to over a decade ago. Long before Dom had saved his life on the battlefield, he had saved Arthur when he'd needed an understanding confidant. He knew they'd always be connected when Dom admitted he'd thought of Arthur as his brother anyway.

So here he stands at the head of his sister in laws class. Ticking bullet points concerning his mission off in his brain: Everyone gets a background check; Everyone gets interrogated; Get Dom help; Get his brother home.

He sees a man loitering at the second entrance at the back of the classroom. He’s handsome if not a bit smug and by his smile as well as his tracksuit Arthur knows immediately who he is. He recognizes Coach Eames from his pictures in previous yearbooks. He's the head varsity soccer coach and teaches senior conditioning in periods one, two, and three. He'd even run the Theater Club for a few years before it was cut from funding.

Arthur can't help the warmth growing in his belly at the way the man looks at him but he does pull his attention back to talking with Browning. He's got a cover to maintain throughout this mission. He can't be wasting time on getting laid, can he?


	4. Big Brother in Santa Mira

Arthur never really liked the invasive surveillance aspect of his government work. Just the thought of his own privacy being invaded, especially back when he had a lot of secrets he'd rather keep to himself, was enough to keep him awake at nights sometimes. He had been irrationally terrified that he hadn't wiped his computer memory enough and one day a superior at Langley would approach him about his 'questionable' web searches.

Even now as he sifts through gigabytes of information about his new coworkers he feels a little uneasy. But his years working in the intelligence world was effective at least in numbing him to trivial things like citizen's rights.

The entire faculty gets a background check courtesy of his CIA honed researching skills. No major hits on anyone's record, nothing too depraved either. There is a fair bit of cheating going on in old Santa Mira it seems. Arthur can only roll his eyes at that and move on to the next mark. After all, he's no Private Investigator and certainly doesn't have the time to play marriage counselor.

He doesn’t realize he'd saved the nosey gym teacher for last until the final folder is in his hands. He stops stalling and dives right into the privacy of Mr. Eames.

Julian Eames to be exact. 35 years old. Lived in Santa Mira for the last 20 years after his parents moved to the states for work. Of course, this information was just gleaned from Fischer High's faculty introduction page so Arthur has to dig deeper.

He only falters a little after hacking into Eames' PC by piggybacking off of some Edward Snowden level 'Eye in the Sky' tech. But his nerves are soon quelled when nothing iffy pops up even in the other man's porn stash. Sure, it is particularly 'adventurous' for these parts but Arthur has seen the same mix of straight, gay, trans, gangbang, BDSM, you name it, on plenty of men's hard drives before.

Arthur moves on to check Eames' social media accounts. His Instagram is updated often with pictures of his various antics as well as plenty of selfies rife with duck lips ( _people still do that?)._

Eames doesn't use his FaceBook account much these days. Just a few quick logins to chat with old school friends or family who are: "just shocked by her new appearance". After reading several comments from close-minded relatives, Arthur decides to go straight to Eames' earliest photo album.

Eames doesn’t have one patch of facial hair in these photos. His build is much more slight even though he's still wearing tracksuits and band shirts. There are a few photos of him with his shirt off, a binder wrapped proudly around his chest while he cuts up for the camera.

He was always handsome, Arthur finds. His jaw line wasn't quite so defined but his lips were just as plush and inviting. He was a bit thinner than Arthur is now, hadn't yet grown into the broad shoulders and thick chest of his aged self but his eyes are very much the same. They still sparkle with every smile. But that's not quite right because sparkling just doesn't describe what both young Eames and Coach Eames are doing to him right now.

"That's enough of that," Arthur says aloud in his newly rented apartment. He shuts the laptop now that's he's realized he's spent an entire hour longer researching Eames than he did anyone else.

The good news is he can live with the spank bank material he's collected for the rest of his mission, likely for the rest of the year. That alone should be enough for Arthur to get his jollies and effectively dissuade him from needing to physically touch Eames. Emphasis on the word should…

After that night he vows to keep all relationships extremely professional just as he's always done, going as far as to avoid the entire gym and track and field areas. Though he tries his best, the man always seems to pop up out of nowhere for no reason.

Arthur isn't dim by the way. He'd recognized the look of interest in Eames' eyes when he'd formally introduced himself the following week. It was quick and professional but damn those eyes.

Arthur has never kowtowed to anyone in his life. He doesn't back down from a challenge because that's just not how he's wired. But that jackass had Arthur breaking their eye contact (eye fuckery more like) opting to instead gaze out the window. _What the hell even are those things? Blue? Green? Grey? Hazel? Either way, they are pure evil!_

After Mr. Eames' introduction he saunters from the French class damn near begging Arthur to ogle the tight ass swaying in thin jersey material and who is Arthur but a man at the mercy of such a view.  

\---

Arthur finds that there isn't only the threat of Eames to contend with when Ariadne also takes to stopping by periodically to 'check in'.

It's on one of her visits that she manages to convince him to leave his dungeon and eat lunch socially in the caf. They chat about this and that while Arthur stabs his fork into what passes for mashed potatoes in this place. She brings up Mal for a while, reminiscing how kind she was, how beautiful but the wound of her passing is still too fresh and Ari has to change the subject.

Eventually, she gets to the whole point of this innocent little lunch; Eames.

"It's kind of ridiculous how great he looks in sweatpants though right?" Ari says with waggling eyebrows. "But just trust me, he cleans up really nice when he wants to."

"He's ok I guess," Arthurs says, hiding his smile by eating some of the broccoli that is somehow both cooked and undercooked at the same time. Ari continues on as if she hadn't heard him.

"Eames is a good friend of mine. When I first started two years ago he was always there to joke with after a rough day or offer good advice to a noob like me. And I know a lot of people think of me as a busybody especially after the whole Saito/Fischer thing but I couldn't not tell you that Eames really is a good guy."

The Saito/Fischer 'thing' Ari is talking about refers to the romance that nearly wasn't between Mr. Saito, the English teacher, and Robert Fischer, from Computer Sciences and the son of the man who named the school. It was all unrequited and they were known to stare at one another longingly until Ariadne decided she'd had enough and locked them in the janitor's closet or something like that. Arthur hadn't really paid attention the first time Ari told him the story or rather bragged about her matchmaking prowess.

"Why is it important that I know Mr. Ea-"

Suddenly Eames is standing before them as if summoned by the utterance of his name. "Sorry to interrupt but Ariadne love do you have that book you were going to loan me?"

Eames is trying to be nonchalant. He's not looking at Arthur but it's so obvious that he's not. Ari too is acting a little funny as she passes Eames a book that neither of them seems truly interested in.

Then Eames walks away. He stays in Arthur's line of sight the entire journey and he's added a bit more hip into his swagger from the last time.

 _It's a sting operation._ Arthur thinks. _They planned this all out hoping for some kind of reaction._ Should he give them what they're fishing for? It's plain as day but that just makes it more adorable for some reason.

Arthur hides the smirk twitching his lips and allows their scenario to play out. Eames saunters off like a bow-legged sex god and Arthur's eyes are covering every inch of that body. Along with half the student body present in the cafeteria because though they be young they are not blind. Arthur can’t blame them one bit either.

While Arthur really allows himself to eye fuck every inch of Eames retreating body, he can practically feel Ari grinning like a mad woman next to him. She is likely compiling the data of his reaction, every nuance of his pleased face, and already plotting her next chat with Mr. Eames.

Arthur knows he shouldn’t be stirring the pots. And though he prides himself on his professionality, he can’t deny the real reason he enjoys this type of work so much; the thrill of it. He’s no danger junky but there is a level of risk to this type of work, it’s not all research.

When he begins the personal interrogations, there is always the chance that someone will get scared and want to fight back. They’ll be subdued, of course, Arthur doesn’t like to leave things to chance so he’s always prepared, but even still he gets a nice kick of adrenaline and endorphins even if it all goes well. In this case, Arthur might have the opportunity to ‘work out’ some of those built up chemical reactions with a nice warm body for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song suggestion: Damn Your Eyes by Etta James. Alex Clare does a good cover but I gotta stay classic with this one.


	5. I Always Get My Man

Later that same day Arthur begins his interrogations. First on the list might seem obvious but sometimes that's the best way to go, get it out of the way.

Yusuf is the Sophmore Chemistry teacher and seems to be well-liked. Arthur has heard a few stories about the 'cool' experiments Mr. Y let them perform. Ones that won't be found in any high school chem books. One of the points of denial the government uses when activists point the finger at them for causing the street Somnacin problem is that the compound is too difficult for just anybody to mix correctly. It's a bullshit excuse and Arthur is certain he's about to debunk it himself.  

Yusuf likes to arrive early on Tuesday mornings Arthur has discovered. Like usual he grabs a chocolate chip muffin from the cafeteria, specially made only on Tuesdays, before heading to his classroom. He unlocks the door balancing his plastic wrapped muffin atop his Starbucks coffee and then promptly drops both when he sees a shadowy figure standing in the middle of the room.

“Jesus fuck!” Yusuf yells after mistaking his life-size skeleton model for a person but more so from the loss of his coffee. He stands on his toes trying to avoid the spill and then hurries to grab paper towels.

“Woah what happened here?” Arthur says as he strolls in.

“I’m a jumpy bugger is all," Yusuf mutters while mopping up as much of the mess as he can.

"So, what brings the language department all the way over to the science dungeon then?” Yusuf asks with a self-deprecating smile.

“I have a few questions actually if you don’t mind?”

“No of course not. What is it? Wanting a simple science experiment, explain the procedure in French?”

Arthur tilts his head thoughtfully. “That does sound like a good idea but I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that.”

Arthur takes a few steps closer just as Yusuf notices the other man shut the door.

“I'd like to know what you’re doing with enough chemicals needed to make 50 gallons of Somnacin in a crawl space below this lab.” Arthur’s tone is as sweet as sin but the words cause liquid dread to slide down Yusuf’s spine.

“I’m sure I don’t kno-“ He stammers before Arthur cuts him off by slamming his fist onto the workstation, rattling beakers.

“Cut the shit, Yusuf!” He pulls a small vial from his pocket, setting it gently where he just hit. “You’re selling this crap to kids, I already know you are so just give me names and  we'll see how far cooperation takes you in court.”

Yusuf looks cornered, terrified, but still somehow defiant. "My stuff is good quality. It's pure and inexpensive. It'll give you those dreams everyone wants to experience but it keeps you asleep in the real world. I developed my own sedative you see…"

"I'm sure your parents are real proud of you but this stuff is getting people killed." Yusuf picks up the vial, studying it in the light. He then goes to one of his desk drawers, rifling through it to the false bottom and then pulling out another vial identical in shape but it's liquid contents differ from Arthur's evidence.

"Someone's been tampering with this," Yusuf says with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?" Arthur frowns peering closer as Yusuf holds each vial up to the light.

"Well, my stuff is obviously darker but when I shake this vial you gave me I can see already that it's slightly more viscous than mine as well. Where did you get this?"

"I followed a couple kids out to the back baseball diamond the other day," Arthur says.

"The other day? And why haven't you gone to the authorities yet? Not that I want to go to jail for the rest of my natural life or anything…" Yusuf places the small glass vials onto the desk and backs away as if suddenly remembering the trouble he's in.

"No one in this town has done anything about Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn yet. I thought I'd take a crack at it."

"This is that Unᴉcorn junk I've been hearing about everywhere?" Yusuf says as guilt begins to grow in his chest.

Arthur nods, "It's what killed Mal."

Yusuf's head snaps up at that. "The police said she'd taken a bad mix of party drugs."

"Somnacin won't show up in a tox screen but the other shit they cut it with does." Yusuf's mouth drops open at that.

"I swear to you Mr. Blum, I had no idea Mal was taking anything. And I may be a bastard for cooking in my own classroom but my stuff is pure. I don't want anyone to get hurt I just… I just wanted to share the experience."

"Yeah well, things don't always work out how we want them to," Arthur says while swooping up and pocketing both vials.

"So is this the point where you call the fuzz on me?" Yusuf mutters, sitting at his desk with a heavy head.

"Normally yeah, but I need something from you first."

"Anything," Yusuf says past his aching chest. "I want to try and help if I can."

"How did you get involved in something like this?" Arthur asks straightforward.

Yusuf smiles sadly. "I was one of the first people used in trials when Somnacin was being developed by the government. It was, well magical to be quite frank. Right away I could see myself using that little drug to get away on the weekends and all. But then the study was defunded and that was that. Until I decided I could give it a go.

"It took me a good long while but I finally recreated the formula but so much better than the original I promise you. Less groggy side effects, less déjà vu during waking hours. I used it every weekend for months, monitoring myself before I decided I wanted to share my hard work with others.

"There were just a few at first but requests just kept growing and soon I was turning down more people than I could supply. But about a year back an anon told me they could help me. I would make the stuff and they would handle distribution. It sounded perfect and that was that. I didn't think anything about never having met them and they trusted me to make a good product.

"You don’t have any names at all?" Arthur asks, brows furrowing.

"I only sell to the one anon now but I can print out a list of names I used to sell to but it's the black market, Mr. Blum, no one is who they seem to be. There was someone recently who found me on the dark web and I had to redirect them to my distributing anon. Their handle was 'M. Larchers' I believe.

"I'm so sorry for the trouble I've caused… if it was my stuff that Mal... I truly wish I had more to give you." Yusuf says sadly.

Arthur brushes off the other man's tears, telling him to have that list of usernames to him asap. He also gives Yusuf his cell number with orders to call him when another shipment is set to go down.

Arthur is up late that night, angry. He's mad at Yusuf for being so naïve. Mad at the entire town of Santa Mira. He even finds himself mad at Mal for somehow getting involved in it all.

He eventually goes to an uneasy sleep turning over the name M. Larchers over and over in his head. Why does it seem so familiar?

\---

While Arthur was hunting bad guys, Ariadne was rushing through the halls, dodging students, on her way to Eames' office. She couldn't wait to tell him just how thirsty Arthur looked when Eames was walking away.

"Thirsty like just a little parched or tear my clothes off and drink his fill thirsty?" It's meant as a flippant joke but Eames is really hoping it's the later because then that would make two of them.

"Oh he's dying of thirst, I'm pretty sure," Ari says smugly as if she had a hand in Arthur's libido. "I think he might just be nervous about inner office dating."

Eames has the biggest shit eating grin and pumps his fists into the air for victory. “I bloody well knew it! He’s a wonderful little actor innit he?” Eames shakes his head thinking of how hard Arthur must have worked to not give into his flirting.

“He has quite the poker face, that’s for sure.” Ari agrees. “But a little advice? Try not to be full on ‘Eames’ all the time with him ok? At least give him the woo.”

Eames lifts an innocent eyebrow in response, laying a hand delicately over his wounded heart. “I'm immensely offended Miss Alexakis. I'll have you know I give great woo.”

“Ok drama king, my bad. But seriously though, be nice. I like this one.”

Eames sighs, patting Ari on the head condescending yet affectionate, “I like him as well, darling. He'll be safe as houses with me.”


	6. How Does One Even Begin to Turn Down Beefcake?

"A little bird sang me an interesting diddy the other day," Eames says, entering Arthur's class without so much as a knock. His voice is deceptively sweet as if he thinks he's being cute. Which of course he is but Arthur's already decided to play a little hard to get so he lets a scowl settle easily over his face.

The silence stretches and Eames is a little disappointed that he isn't ruffling the stoic man's feathers as he's come to enjoy.

"Well, wouldn't you like to know what they told me, Arthur darling?"

Arthur blinks a few times in order to stop his eyes from rolling back into his head. "Just speak your piece already _Mr._ Eames." He says emphasizing the man's title to remind him that he's never given express permission for him to be so formal.

"Pardon me, Monsieur Blum," Eames bows a little before sitting half on Arthur's desk. He does so love the stern reprimanding teacher. Eames wonders, no hopes, that he's like this in bed as well.

At the very thought, Eames' usual smirk morphs into a devilish grin that Arthur hasn't seen before… and it's even sexier than his usual arsenal of fuck-me smiles.

Arthur instinctively closes his legs, clenching his nethers tightly. He digs the nails on his right hand into his palm to stop the moan that threatens to escape his throat because _damn daddy_. He knew Eames was going to be trouble but this man is plain evil and the force of pure want that hovers around him rarely fails to hit Arthur right in the pants.

"Anyway, I heard there's a chance you fancy me, _Mr._ Arthur." The man purrs, leaning closer to add further mockery to his address.

Arthur snorts to cover up the audible 'gulp' caught in his throat.

"The only thing I _fancy_ is peace and quiet so I can finish my meal and grade these papers, Mr. Eames." _Nice recovery Arthur._ "That's why I was in my classroom with the door closed after all."

Eames relaxes his already casual stance by folding his thick arms over his barrel chest. Muscles pop left and right putting Arthur in the awkward state of wanting to look away but refusing to surrender to those biceps and traps and pecs. _Gulp._ "You know what they say about all work and no play?"

Arthur bites the inside of his lip to avoid rolling his eyes. _How can this guy be hot as hell while at the same time unbearably annoying?_

"You are coming off as a bit of a stick in the mud darling. Most folks adore my quips and antics. So do us a favor and stop interrupting whilst I woo you, yes?" Arthur can't contain himself any longer. He scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes far into the back of his head.

Eames is elated, savoring the eye fluttering and slack-jawed disgust from the other man before taking a knee beside Arthur's chair. He doesn't touch the other man but he does grab both armrests in order to swing Arthur around, albeit gently, to face him. And all Arthur can think for a long 10 seconds is, _Yes! Do it! Do me! Right here! Let's go!_

He feels his lower body react hard to the powerful display Eames is putting on. He can feel the heat radiating off of this beast of a man. The warmth calls to Arthur, telling him to touch what's being gifted to him.

"I tease you because I like you by the by. I like how strict you are without being completely unbearable. I like that you can get away with it because you are not only beyond competent at your job but you truly help your students and I find that admirable. I also like the way you look if that's not being too forward." Eames' says with an easy smile that stretches his beautiful lips and sets a twinkle in his eyes.

Arthur can only force his incredibly dry throat to swallow as he pretends not to be moved by Eames' candor.  His grip on his red pen is starting to hurt so he drops it and wipes the sweat from his palm on his pants.

"Ok, fine," Arthur says because playing hard to get is just silly at this point especially when he's already on board with taking Eames to Bang Town, population them.

"Really? Well, that wasn't too bloody difficult. I had at least another 15 minutes of material." Eames jokes with a wink at Arthur before standing. He claps once but contains any further unsportsmanlike celebrating before getting down to business. "I'd love to take you out for dinner then. And even though I'm fairly certain it won't end badly, if you do decide I'm not what you're looking for I will stop asking you out and we will just be coworkers or hopefully friends. How's that sound?"

"Perfect," Arthur says before reigning in his own excitement causing Eames to grin as if he's already one the day. "I mean being respectable coworkers would be perfect." _Nice save._

"I'll take it," Eames says with an entirely too pleased smile as he starts leaving the room.

"Hey! So what's the plan?" Arthur asks in a huff at Eames back.

"Oh, I rather like to play it by ear. I'll pick you up no later than seven this Friday night."

"No later? Well, what's the earliest- and you haven't even asked where I live?" Arthur's face scrunches up at the idea of agreeing to a potentially shitty date. Sure he's horny as hell but he has his standards.

"That same birdie is also a very busy little bee it seems." Eames stops to lean a hand against the door. "No worries Arthur, please. Just let ol' Eames handle the details."

And out he goes, leaving Arthur in somewhat of a tizzy because **he's** the one who usually handles all the details. What the hell is he supposed to do with Eames at the wheel?


	7. Cutting the Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom chicka bow wow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers with certain references to sex, maybe. 
> 
> Oh yeah. we're getting it on tonight! I'm not 'warning' folks that there is a trans sex scene cuz that should be a given what with the tags and rating. I will say however that perhaps you won't know some of the terms I'll be using? See the end note for them shits. and if you have a question go ahead and ask! Unless you wanna be a douche... in that case... just don't. I'm really tired.

Eames arrives at 7:13, two minutes before Arthur decided he was going to lock the door and turn off the light.

Arthur was prepared to rip into him for being late but then he just happened to look out the window as the man came up the driveway.

He's without his usual tracksuit this evening. Instead, he wears a fine looking black suit jacket wrapped handsomely around his wide shoulders. His shirt is a deep purple that Arthur wouldn't have the balls to wear but looks so perfect on the man striding up the walk, adjusting his collar one last time. Said collar is also opened to the fourth button revealing the dark swirls of ink hidden beneath.

Arthur then promptly picks his jaw up off the floor and hurries to open the door before Eames get the chance to knock.

Eames smirks at what he correctly assumes is Arthur's excitement and offers an insincere apology for being terribly late. Arthur's lips bunch to the right as he debates chewing him out further and then huffs when he realizes he's making allowances for the jerk because he's crazy hot.

"I resent being made to wait, Mr. Eames. I hope the rest of the night goes better than the beginning."

"As do I, pet, as do I," Eames mutters before grasping Arthur's hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. He then laughs at the look of disgust on Arthur's face while he snatches his already sweaty palm away. Eames only felt minimally guilty for making such a presumptuous maneuver but lucky for him, Arthur was more disgusted with the thought of the other man feeling his moist hand and being teased incessantly for it.

\---

Cut to the restaurant Eames picked out for their first date. It's a steakhouse… or maybe it's Italian? The truth is Arthur has no idea where he is. He'd lost much of the plot once he climbed into Eames beautifully restored Electric Blue 1965 Mustang. Arthur never was one for this type of nostalgia, nor muscle cars to be honest, but sitting beside a stud like Eames… it's just giving him lots of 'Im dating the star quarterback' feelings that he might have jerked it to back in the day.

The awkward small talk was sidestepped expertly when Eames turned on the radio to the local smooth jams station. It's the most relaxing moment Arthur has had in years. He floats along for an undetermined length of time before he's helped form the car and ushered inside… this place. They share the same padded seat in their own booth and finally, Arthur is able to get his head out of his ass and at least lay eyes on the joint (he still has no idea).

Who would have thought that all of his training and extensive precautions would be put asunder by a few popped buttons and a car made for poppin' cherries?

They both can't stop stealing glances as they eat and apparently Arthur is trapped in that lust haze again because he can't remember what the hell he ate. Was it the pasta or salmon or both?

He remembers the taste of Eames' steak just fine. Medium rare, cooked to perfection but Arthur's eyes had been glued to the Union Jack etched into his left pec where the shirt has been fluttered open since they sat down.

He remembers desert as well. Eames had fed him then too, pieces of fruit dipped in chocolate ganache, so maybe there was a connection between Arthur's memory recall and Eames inserting things into his mouth…

Dinner is done and then there's another stretch of time in Eames' sex machine and they are back at Arthur's place and all he can think is _that was way too fast_.

"I don't know about you darling but I'm not ready to end this just yet. What say you?" Eames whispers against Arthur's ear, delighting in the shiver he caused.

Arthur should take a moment to think and be logical about this. He's got something really important going on after all. But it's very hard to recall his responsibilities over the screaming jolts of electricity shooting from his ear down to the tip of his dick.

"Yeah, um movie?" Is all he can force out of his mouth. They settle awkwardly in front of the TV until they find a movie to put on. Again, who knows what's playing? And does it even matter? Because Eames is a damn oven set to broil at Arthur's side and by fuck, he's never wanted to be burned so badly in his life.

He excuses himself to use the bathroom. He's already made up his mind how he wants the night to go so he strips down, carefully removing the various weapons he keeps on at all times including the knife holster at his thigh because you just never know.

Arthur reemerges wearing pajamas this time. Novelty Walking Dead boxer shorts (cuz he can be fun too) and a very well worn Henley that once was white but is now far more see-through than the original designers intended. Eames does a double take at Arthur's outfit and his eyes don't return to the screen for the rest of the night.

"You know, people usually go to dinner on a first date to talk; learn things about each other. All I learned was that you really enjoy a good chocolate drizzle." Eames mutters as he slides closer on the smooth leather sofa. One of his arms rests along the back while his other is supported over his knee, effectively caging Arthur on his right side.

Arthur bites his lip in an attempt to counteract the blush threatening to spill over his cheeks. "Yeah, well…" He responds intelligently. _I am just full of smooth moves today!_

"Tell me a little about yoursel- oompf!" Eames words are cut off when Arthur dives in to plant a rough kiss on his lips. He pulls back with his own evil sexy smile because never let it be said that Arthur is shy. He's just awkward as hell sometimes is all.

Eames is pleasantly surprised by this turn of events pulling Arthur back in for more.

They are both pleasantly satisfied with one another's kissing technique. Not too wet, not too much teeth, just the right amount of tongue being swept over lips and inside, both dominating and being dominated.

Eames' hands stay occupied on Arthur's hips and ass, his lips move down the barely-there stubble that's grown over the day to tease and gently lick his Adam's apple.

Meanwhile, Arthur's hands wander over the dusting of hair on Eames' chest, the huge swell of his trap muscles, and into the soft strands of hair on his head.

Arthur suddenly leans back, hands at the bottom of his shirt, ready to tug it off and reveal himself to Eames. The man's breath catches as he traces his rough hands over Arthur's delicate looking collarbone and down to his feint to surgery scars. There's a beautiful trail of hair that leads from his sternum down, down leading Eames to drag his thumbs along the waist of the zombie boxers to see what that trail is up to.

Arthur blocks Eames' descent. The man didn't even bat an eyelash at Arthur's reveal. "How did you…"

"The same way you know about me I reckon." Eames winks.

"You mean that 'little birdy' that's been all in my business lately?" Arthur says with a smirk of his own.

Eames shrugs before tugging Arthur back to his chest. "This is ok, right? I mean, I assumed she might have let it slip to you as well."

 _Let it slip._ Arthur scoffs. That girl is the busiest person he's ever met. "Yeah, it's great. That's out of the way. I suppose we move along to the trans guy checklist then."

Eames laughs at that. "I didn't know we had a checklist!"

"Well, this trans guy does," Arthur says pointing to himself. "After, 'Are we cool with us both being trans' we move on to: 'trigger words, trigger areas, and safe words'."

Eames nods, the corners of his lips stretched down with a head nod, either to indicate thoughtful agreement or to mimic Robert De Niro, who knows.

"I've never used a safe word but I can get behind the rest. OK," Eames rubs his hands together.

"I'm not very fond of referring to my front hole using feminine terms. I also don't much fancy having it messed with. Now my cock, I'm far more comfortable with that being used in various ways." He grins.

Arthur nods along, smiling fondly, squirming a little as he's curious to see that cock for himself. "I don't really have any triggers. My surgeries took care of a lot of my dysphoria and I'm pretty used to the way everything works now. I actually really enjoy front penetration a lot but if that isn't something you're into I'm good with anal too. Oh, and my safe word is applesauce."

"Applesauce, alright then." Eames chuckles. "I've not had the pleasure of getting with another transman before but I'm ready to tackle that or rather you. Seriously darling, I'm dying to touch you."

\---

Cut to two naked sweaty bodies, writhing and gliding on the black leather sofa, grinding and moaning as they simultaneously devour each other's manhood. Arthur is no stranger to encounters with other trans guys so there's no hesitation on his part but that doesn't mean he isn't impressed with the natural growth that's been bestowed on Eames.

The hood juts out from his body, proud and engorged and just begging for Arthur to taste. He avoids anything below the hormone grown cock even though the large labia interests him as well. Even though he personally thinks it's hot he can still understand why Eames might be dysphoric about such a thing.

On the other end of this particularly yummy 69, Eames is loving the attention Arthur is giving his other head. He'd been nervous at first that Arthur might forget his preference but his worry proves unwarranted; Arthur is obviously a master cock sucker with laser-like focus. With appreciation of his own in mind, Eames finally yanks the boxers the rest of the way down to reveal a beautiful, thick patch of pubic hair to match his soft, furred thighs. Eames rubs his stubble against those thighs before doing the same to the mound of plush, honing in on the tiny beautifully shaped cock nestled within.

"You went Meta. It's fucking gorgeous darling," the breathy utterance causes Arthur to shiver and his hips to pump towards Eames, begging him to prove just how appealing he finds his enhanced cock. Eames circles the tiny head with the tip of his tongue, riding the shudders it induces in his partner before engulfing the micropenis in the scorching heat of his cherry mouth. He lets the appendage go with a loud pop and then bites along Arthur's belly and thighs until he's quivering from the stimulation.

Arthur doesn't let up his own work even as pleasure courses through him and Eames has to admire that level of dedication. From where he lies on his back he reaches up over Arthur's straining body to clasp the back of his head and begins to face fuck his thin, slippery lips.

While he pounds Arthur, Eames resumes his own feast by trying to take Arthur's member as deep as possible into his mouth. His jaw was definitely going to ache in the morning as he tries to open it as wide as possible, wanting to force the hefty four-centimeter stiff prick deeper and deeper.

Eventually, Eames remembers there was much more to be dined on. He runs callused fingers over the soft desert rose of Arthur's junk, sliding easily into his slit forcing a chest-rumbling moan from them both. He promptly removes his sopping wet fingers, shoving them in his mouth to get all the earthy, masculine flavored slick he can onto his tongue.

Arthur moans again as those rugged fingers are put back deep inside and instead of guiding Eames head as his partner had done, Arthur opts to sit up a little straighter effectively smothering Eames in his musky bouquet.

Eames does well at taking cues and immediately grasps Arthur's hips as he guides his tongue deep into his bonus hole. Arthur keens and bounces, reveling in the feel of Eames' scratchy beard burning his thighs and labia so good. He looks down to see the other man smothered in his juices and watching his cock tapping against that stubbled brick like jaw. He could easily cum like this but he can't decide if he wants to just take the O that's building or stave it off, edge his cock until they are both piles of tortured flesh begging for release.

It appears that Eames is entertaining the former attitude as he moves his attention back to Arthur's dick while driving two thick fingers back into his hole. Arthur moans, unable to move for a time, so trapped in pleasure is he. Finally, he lowers his head and begins fellating Eames with even greater vigor, hoping to bring him off in time with Arthur's quickly building orgasm.

Eames slides a third finger into Arthur's sloppy, quaking hole causing his inner walls to spasm and grasp firmly onto the digits while fucking in and out of his mouth. Soon enough Arthur is forced to abandon Eames' pleasure in order to groan and shout as his own finally crests leaving him shaking and collapsing onto Eames' torso.

The coach isn't mad about it at all as he strokes Arthur's back and goes about slurping up what all Arthur's tight body had to offer.

After a few minutes basking in the delicious post-orgasmic glow, Arthur tries to renew his work and take Eames into his mouth. Only Eames gently bats him away, maneuvering Arthur until he's right side up this time to lay him across his chest.

"Takes too long sometimes. Felt good though." Eames grins easily, seemingly used to going without a happy ending.

This serves to only insight Arthur even further as he wiggles against Eames sliding his own battle roughened fingers just along the fat head of Eames' growth. Arthur's mouth finds new ways to occupy itself as he nibbles along Eames' jaw to his ears to his cheeks and then his lips. "Now I want to make you jizz even more." He mutters between bruising bites and teasing licks.

Eames grins, enjoying the attention but ultimately he stops Arthur's hand. "You'll get your chance I'm sure, but it gets oversensitive sometimes, daddy needs a little break darling."

Arthur shudders at the potential roleplay Eames might be hinting at and agrees to back off, appreciating his lover's thresholds even as he vows to ravage this solid beautiful body in the near future.

They stay like that until their breathing evens out until the cooling sweat of their skin grows cold and sticky on the leather sofa. Arthur pulls Eames up and drags him to the shower for what would have been a quick rinse if Eames dastardly fingers hadn't found Arthur front hole yet again and decided to stay until he was cumming, sobbing against the frigid shower wall.

Eames then slings Arthur's slighter body over his shoulder, easily ignoring the very tired raspy protestation he gives. The fuss Arthur makes is short lived as he decides he doesn't care cuz not walking right now is pretty awesome.

They settle into Arthur's bed, Eames effectively warming the cool sheets up in no time at all. Yet again they discuss what people normally talk about on first dates _prior_ to bumping uglies.

They talk about as many important things as unimportant ones. Middle names, childhood pets, the moment they knew their true selves weren't reflected back in the mirror. Their arms and legs are tangled up together and pretty soon they both have to take the time to readjust their junk so it rests comfortably against their partner's thigh.

It's incredibly comfortable, almost transcendent in a way to have found a person to hold in this way that's so perfect and right.

Eames whispers something silly about getting himself together in order to leave to which Arthur tells him that ship has sailed. No leaving allowed. Which then brings a huge smug smile to Eames kiss-bruised lips as though everything had gone according to plan; you can never go wrong bringing a date to Sizzler after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meta: short for metoidioplasty. It's one option for bottom surgeries for ftm folk.
> 
> Growth: after going on T or testosterone, some but not all trans dudes experience growth of the clitoral region.
> 
> Front Hole: some, but not all, trans men experience body dysphoria especially concerning their bottom bits. This leads to some calling their junk in the front a bonus hole or front hole.


	8. Imaginaaation

Their love affair is off and running after that. More like galloping, to be honest.   
In spite of the distraction Eames offer, Arthur is already finishing up talking to teachers and some of the students but the name he got from Yusuf is never far from his mind.  
M. Larchers.   
It sounds made up but a quick online search uncovers more hits of the surname. It’s not that sometimes Arthur’s gut isn’t wrong it’s just that this really feels fake to him or perhaps… is it familiar? Something is screaming out for him to wake up and take notice but no insight comes.  
He ends up inviting Eames over again to watch some movies but they skip the 'Netflix' and go straight to 'chill'. After, they grab a snack Eames starts to snoop around Arthur's work on his desk which he has uncharacteristically left in 'disarray' (two papers were left out because Eames showed up earlier than he had indicated, sweeping Arthur up and gobbling him down right there at the table).   
Arthur realizes his mistake and snatches the pages away from Eames' grasp but not before the man has read a bit.  
"Monsieur Larchers." Eames says in a passable Parisian accent. "Should I be worried about the fancy French bloke my boyfriend is writing notes about?"  
Arthur rolls his eyes in spite of the butterflies flapping in his gut just from Eames saying the 'b' word.   
"No," he says letting the reprimand for snooping and the correction on the status of their involvement die on his tongue. "He's just kind of a riddle right now."  
"Ah, like an anagram?" Eames says casually as he walks around to try to rifle through Arthur's mail on the kitchen counter.  
"Quit touchi-" Arthur starts but goes slack-jawed when the man's words register.  
"Mr. Charles," Arthur says unthinking through clenched teeth.  
Eames sends up an eyebrow in question but Arthur only walks over and grabs Eames by his scruffy face saying, "You are brilliant Eames. I can't believe I didn't think of that."  
To which Eames grins proudly and responds, "It's not really your fault Arthur darling, you simply lack the proper imagination sometimes."  
Not even this blatant snobbery dims the appreciation Arthur feels for the jerk in that moment.  
He's antsy to jump into action but there isn't much he can do at 11 o'clock on a school night except let his people know that he'll be visiting the prison again ASAP. So after a quick series of emails, he throws Eames over his shoulder this time, carrying him to bed and throwing him down. He has a few ideas on how to properly thank his boyfriend (blush) and he plans on paying his dues over the next few hours.  
\---  
They fuck each other's brains out damn near all night. Even still, Arthur is able to get enough sleep to be wide awake and deadly prepared by dawn. He kisses his sleeping lover and leaves a note about needing to take a day for some important errands.   
The assistant warden meets him as soon as he enters the building and leads him straight to a private interview room.   
Arthur walks in with a purpose that Dom is able to read right away. He leans back and exhales a breath that Arthur supposes he's been holding for weeks, since Mal's death.  
A Corporal sits across from his Gunnery Sergeant, his best friend, the man whom he owed so much. Accusations sit at the edge of Arthur's mouth but he shakes them away. No speculation will ever tarnish the trust he has in his brother. But still…  
“Why is an anagram of your field codename being used to buy large quantities of Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn?” He might want to give Dom the benefit of the doubt but he still doesn’t have time to fuck around.   
Dom sighs, not in dejection but in relief. Arthur can tell he has a story that needs saying so he just nods and lets him speak his piece.  
“She was beside herself when that kid Jonathon Nash died. She blamed herself in ways that made me hurt physically for her. I was already stationed and on orders when she got ahold of me, just devastated. I had to call her parents and ask them to check on the kids.”  
Another weary sigh escapes his lips as he gathers his thoughts. “She wanted me to come home right away and help her catch the people responsible because the cops were treating it as just another accidental death. There are so many drugs out there they can’t just focus on the one, they said.” Dom pauses again to shake his head. “They don’t understand what’s at stake with this shit though. It’s not just something to get high with. It has the potential to change or develop your brain chemistr-“  
“I know that Dom. We took the same class back when the government thought it could be used for espionage.” Arthur interjects gently. Seeing how tired Dom looks is easing the inpatient anger that had built up on the drive over.  
“Sorry man,” another sigh and Dom’s hands are gripping the metal table as far as the cuffs around his wrists will allow. “The thing is, I couldn’t get time off. I asked the higher-ups and tried to call in favors over but I was the team leader of an important mission, I couldn’t just leave…”  
Dom brings his hands to his face now, fingertips pressing over his eyes in a way that makes him look like a frightened child. It’s one of the most chilling displays Arthur has ever seen because his brother is never that scared. But it isn’t fear that has motivated this action. He alternates pulling the short hair atop his head and digging the rough pads of his fingers into his flesh.  
“You heard the audio already?” Dom asks seemingly out of nowhere, bringing his hands to his lap in a poor attempt to appear calm.  
Arthur nods.  
“To answer your question, I didn’t know she was using my codename. I didn’t know that she had gotten so desperate to find out who was supplying her kids that she wound up in some L.A. hotel where she somehow managed to take a cocktail of drugs and then jump to her… to her death.” Dom swallows heavily the thick emotion building within as he begins to wring his hands. "I didn't know that but I knew she needed me and I… I didn't do a fucking thing for her…"  
Dom tries his best to fight the weeping that takes him over but there's no use. His guilt is too great to tamper such emotion and his shoulders tremble and heave in his dismay.  
"You had no idea this would happen, Dom. There's no way you could have known the full extent. She always had her own way of doing things. She must have known-"  
"She must have known what she was getting herself into?" Dom asks with a hint of derision.  
"She must have known a way she could get in good with whoever is running things. But she too had no idea what would have happened. She didn't want to leave you or the kids, Dom, I know that as sure as I know you would have done anything to help her if you were able. Everything got fucked up real bad and we can't change that. What we can do is take down the fucks responsible."  
Dom nods and reaches across the table, cuffs clanking along the way, Arthur offers his hands to be clasped tightly. "Thank you, brother."


	9. I Knew It Was Him The Whole Time!

Arthur leaves his friend without any new leads but with renewed determination. He still has fuck all to go on but he'll run through the damn list again and put the screws to them if need be.

That turns out to be unnecessary because coincidentally he's getting a text from Yusuf just then.

_"Just notified about the next buy. They wanted the whole lot and they wanted to do it at the school tonight."_

Tonight? It's barely long enough to take a proper shit but still, he confirms the meeting and then immediately gets on the phone with a friend in the FBI who is ready to take someone down involved in this drug. The main problem is that they are still on the other side of the country but his friend promises to be there no later than 8 pm tonight.

It takes Arthur until 7 o'clock to get back into town. There are a few texts from Eames and one missed call but those will have to wait until-

Before he can finish his thought, Arthur spots the man's car parked along with Ariadne's and Mr. Saito's as well as a couple vehicles he doesn't recognize. He checks those messages finally and realizes he somehow forgot tonight was the Winter Formal. _Damn you, Yusuf._

He enters the building as casual as possible, not knowing what to expect. He's relaxed but his fingers twitch sporadically, attuned to the gun tucked into his shoulder holster. Before he secures the campus he goes to the gym where he finds the aforementioned teachers, along with young Fischer, and a small group of students.

"Finally ready to talk to me are ya?" Eames snarks as Arthur rapidly approaches with an expression far to cool for things to be chill. The kids are still setting up streamers and what not while the teachers open up tables and chairs.

Arthur decides to get straight to the point, brushing aside Eames' attempts to tease him. "Have you seen anyone suspicious tonight?"

Eames immediately sobers up from his playing at the thought that something might be wrong in his school.

“It’s just us setting up in here," He says after doing a quick headcount. "What’s going on, Arthur?”

“There’s a lot I need to explain but we don't have the time so I need you to trust me right now Eames." Arthur takes hold of his lover's hands and looks deadly serious into his eyes. "I need you to get everyone out of this building as quick and as calm as you can. Please, Eames.”

"A trust exercise is it?" Eames says. "I hadn't realized we were already at that stage."

He obviously wants to know what's going on yet still he nods and offers a supportive smile before gathering the assembled folk and escorting them out with promises of burgers and milkshakes for a job well done.

On his way Arthur stops him with a promise, “I’m going to explain everything later."

Eames nods and gives him a look that says 'yes indeed you are' but he continues on, dutifully removing the innocent bystanders from a potentially dangerous situation.

Arthur heads over to the Science wing of the school and slips soundlessly into Yusuf’s classroom. The other man is sitting alone in the dim room looking nervous as hell and gives a start when Arthur finally reveals himself just at his back.

“Mr. Blum! I'm glad to see you.”

“I’m sure you are. Did you know the dance was tonight? And how did they know you had the stuff here?”

"I had no idea, I swear. I don't really pay much attention to school functions.” Yusuf’s eyes are wide and sincere. "I might have mentioned before in conversation that I was a teacher so maybe they assumed?" He says sheepishly.

Arthur shakes his head but just finds a corner of the room to lean against and wait. "Just try to relax and don't say too much. People always fuck up by talking."

Yusuf grows more afraid by the minute, as he should. This is the reality of getting involved with these type of dealings. Arthur has been messaging with the team but hasn't gotten anything back in the last hour.

Ten minutes later a couple small time looking thugs waltz into the lab. Both with pasty complexions, greasy hair, and drug-fueled greed burning in their eyes.

Shortly thereafter the fucking Chief of Police waltzing in followed by Principal Browning. Arthur can't say he's surprised but fuck he's disappointed in what passes for school officials and law enforcement these days.

"Arthur!" The shifty principal greets. "I was wondering where all those questions of yours were leading you."

"They might lead me into early retirement if we play this right," Arthur says with a cold smirk. Browning laughs in response.

"He's been working with me a bit lately," Yusuf explains lamely while showing the hired muscle where the loose tiles are and they start moving furniture and flooring, unearthing hundreds of small vials of Yusuf's pure drug, ready to be turned into Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn.

"Well, we tell the kids that teamwork is key," Browning chuckles _yeah, great time to bring up your biggest failure as a human being dickwad._ "Too bad our Mal couldn't see it that way?"

Arthur's face is an exercise in calm even as hellfire swirls beneath his skin.

"Oh?" Arthur asks nonchalantly. "She couldn't cut it huh?

"No. She tried her little act to get in but we knew she didn't wanna play ball. She was so hellbent on avenging that loser kid that got himself killed." Browning steps over and watches four large duffle bags being filled with his nest egg and a new life on a beach somewhere. "She had a nice little act and maybe we could have used her if she hadn't of had such an adverse reaction. She was a sweet little thing after all, what a waste."

Arthur has a few choices right now. He can continue to bite his tongue until he chokes himself and just wait for the feds to show or he can try to apprehend them by himself, four on one. Of course, he's not going to do anything that drastic.

"Boss this guy is looking a little too nervous if you ask me." One of the thugs says, advancing on and sizing up Yusuf.

Well, he wasn't going to do anything drastic until it all began going to shit.

Words are exchanged. Accusations are yelled. The cop seems to have an itchy trigger finger ( _go figure)_ and he pulls his pistol out to aim it at the very twitchy chemistry teacher.

"Woah, let's all just calm down here," Arthur says with his hands raised enough not to display his own Glock waiting beneath his Armani jacket. Just take the product and leave the money and we're done. This seems to work on the Sherif who begins lowering his weapon but the lackey isn't so convinced. He pulls his gun out and fires at Yusuf without a second thought, hitting him square in the gut.

Browning is covering his head and telling the cop to handle his people while the cop is realizing the mistake he made in hiring two ex-felons. The other greaseball takes out his gun now too and turns to shoot Arthur. He's got his gun in hand as well and begins firing while diving behind a desk.

Arthur is crouch-walking around the desk with eyes on the door. Browning is frantically yelling at his accomplices before another shot rings out and his voice is silenced forever. At the same time, Arthur decides to make a run for it, tearing out of the room and hauling ass to the main entrance.

Before he can make it he's being fired upon again forcing him to dive into the alcove of a locked door. The firing stops as the dirty cop tries to reason with him. "Just calm down son, don't make this any harder than it has to be. Things went a little fubar back there but there's no reason we can't salvage the rest of the deal."

Arthur shakes his head at the bullshit the asshole is spewing. He readies his weapon with a new clip and comes out shooting as he runs to the school's foyer. The cop goes down and so does the other lackey. Arthur nearly sighs in relief until he turns around to find himself in the crosshairs of yet another of the sheriff's henchman.

"I guess my share just got bigger. Thanks, kid." The man says with a sneer indicating for Arthur to drop his weapon. Before he has a chance to shoot, however, he's suddenly hit over the head with a baseball bat wielded by none other than the coach of the year, Mr. Eames.

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief as his boyfriend _(yes)_ hurries to his side and begins fretting over the various scrapes he's taken and oh is that a bullet wound in my shoulder? Oops. "I heard shooting. Ari is calling the cops. What the fuck Arthu-"

Eames doesn't get a chance to properly scold Arthur for damaging his beautiful body because Mr. I Should Have A Brain Injury is sitting up and aiming his gun at Eames. Without a second thought, Arthur rips into the hidden velcro panel at his right hip and is sending the combat knife waiting there straight into the throat of the fuckstick who dared threaten his man. The asshole drops his weapon in favor and trying to keep his blood from escaping his new stoma courtesy of Arthur MotherFuckin Blum.

Before Arthur can breathe a sigh of relief he retrieves his gun as well as the bad guys' and then moves to usher Eames from the building before anything else happens.

He comes up short however when he sees the look on his lovers face. His wide, mouth agape, nose flared. "Are you ok Eames?"

"No, I'm bloody well not ok! How have I had your tongue in my arse but you never told me you were fucking Rambo!?"

Arthur laughs making him realize how tired he feels all of a sudden. Maybe next time he won't stay up until the wee hours sexing his man when he's got a job the next day; maybe.

"Like I said, I'll explain it all later. Let's just get the hell outta here Mr. Eames.


	10. I Just Want to Ride My Man Off Into The Sunset

They gingerly step out of the school together; an ex-officer (ish) and, more or less, a gentlemen.

Of course, Ariadne comes running out of nowhere whisper yelling at them and saying the ambulance is already on the way after seeing blood splattered all over Arthur's precious Armani.

"Can you make it till then?" Ari asks with concern shimmering in her eyes.

"I've had worse. I'm good you guys, trust me." Arthur says with a tired smile, clutching both of their hands.

"I don’t think you get to use the 'trust me' card for a while yet Arthur Blum," Eames says with narrowed eyes and then says with great mockery, "Trust me, Eames, what could possibly go wrong?"

Arthur chuckles a bit. "Is that how I sound?" He pinches off the open bullet wound before laying his head on Eames' shoulder, obviously playing dirty by being wounded and adorable at the same time.

Eames only shakes his head as he holds his lover against his chest and then whispers, "You scared the shit out of me darling. Just met you haven't I? And you're already trying to escape? Not fair. Not bloody fair at all."

Those words and these arms make Arthur feel cozy and safe and he wants to burrow even closer. "I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to."

"And why would I do a fool thing like that?" Eames scoffs but Arthur can hear the tiny quiver in his voice. _Good. I'm not the only one getting all emotional._

They stand like that, leaning, supporting, dare one say loving each other until red and blue lights engulf the faculty parking lot.

The cops ask a few questions. Arthur raises his head long enough to tell them about the perps and Yusuf and several kilos of drugs. Then he settles back down into the perfect heat of his lover for a time.

The ambulance reaches them minutes later. Arthur climbs on the gurney and is patient as they field dress his shoulder before loading him into the bus. Eames climbs in as well because there is no way he can be away from Arthur after nearly losing him.

They can hear Ari through the closing doors that she will meet them there and they both smile because they never imagined she wouldn't.

Eames sits beside his man and for the tenth time, he has to tamp down the desire to fret over Arthur or ask how he feels because he knows he alright. It's written plain and clear in the man's dopey smile.

"They give you drugs already?" Eames chuckles as he scoops up Arthur's hand to rub his palm to soothe himself as much as his lover.

"Maybe I'm just a little high on you right now," Arthur says with all sincerity.

Eames' jaw drops before his lips stretch into a wide grin as he leans over to nuzzle Arthur's hairline with his nose, "Are you going to start stealing my cheesy lines? Because I'm not sure if we can both be hilarious. Shall we switch and I can be a deadly serious FBI agent?"

"CIA. Formerly." Arthur smiles.

"Ah. Excusez-moi. Formerly eh? So what's your current gig then? Soldier of fortune? Travelling the country rescuing devastatingly handsome men or puppies or what have you?" Eames asks.

"I was actually thinking about being a French teacher at this little high school but they have a terrible drug problem." Arthur quips as Eames' hands move to massage his scalp next.

"You know, I can't recall ever hearing you speak French Mr. Blum. Are you even qualified?" Eames teases.

"Je t'aime beaucoup," Arthur whispers, the truth of it igniting his eyes and making a lump suddenly appear in Eames' throat.

All sarcasm dies on Eames' lips as he leans over to kiss his secret agent boyfriend or whatever he is. "You’d better Arthur darling. Because so do I. Je t'aime."


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who left this shitty epilogue here!?

Time heals all wounds.

Arthur has always hated that saying because it's blatantly false. Some wounds fester and never heal properly. And don't even get him started on emotional wounds. But several months after the Winter Formal that had to be canceled due to all the dead bodies and whatnot, here he is finding himself healed many times over.

Several of their students are graduating tonight and Arthur is momentarily surprised by how happy he is to be able to see it. He would never have thought this could be so fulfilling. Without the constant looming death he finds he quite likes the 'regular Joe' kind of life.

He's still a workaholic of course; a teacher never truly clocks out after all but Eames is always there to make certain he steps back from the grind to smile and enjoy life each day.

Arthur was able to pull a few strings and bolster Dom's defense to show that he was instrumental in helping take down the Blᴉnd Unᴉcorn ring. He had to serve some time for going AWOL but soon enough he was out and with his kids, promising better things to come for all of them.

Ariadne is still busy as ever. She doesn't just set men up together, she must too monitor their love lives as well.

Eames walks into his classroom as he has done every working day since Arthur was released from the hospital.

"We've a few hours before we're needed at the ceremony. What say you to a quick soak and a light lunch?" Eames asks with a familiar glint in his crystal eyes.

"Mhm," Arthur hums whilst shaking his head. "Quick and light, is that really how you're going to play this?"

"Well I figured I couldn't outright say I want to shag every last bit of last day of school tension from your body and then use said relaxed body to eat a well-balanced meal off of now could I darling? I know how you do enjoy being coaxed gently." Eames says with a quirked eyebrow.

Arthur shakes his head as he gathers his things before they walk out together. "So then am I eating food off my own body or will we switch?"

"I've a utensil I can use to load up food to deliver to your mouth darling…"

"Ok, now you're talking."

fin


End file.
